


Foreigner's God

by AidenFeliCane



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Christmas Truce of 1914, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Other, Winter, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27154712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AidenFeliCane/pseuds/AidenFeliCane
Summary: Arthur Kirkland finds himself inside of a trench during the Christmas dawn, with a group of enemy Germans shouting greetings for him.A tale about the Christmas truce of 1914 during the WWI.
Relationships: England/Germany (Hetalia)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Foreigner's God

> " _— They composed it first for one war, then adapted it for another. It’s good that it is suitable for any war. As long as man is alive, he will always deem himself to be the light of the world, and consider his enemies as the darkness.— <<And they will be thinking like that on both sides of the front>>; Artyom added”_ \- Dmitry Glukhosvy, Metro 2033. 2005

Arthur chuckled as he squeezed the rifle closer to his chest. The cold metal cooled his fingers making him want to throw it away. Instead of doing that, he squeezed it tighter, feeling with his fingers the biting cold on the metal. 

His whole body was cold and he felt like the world was freezing around him. He was used to the kind of cold that he would feel on mornings after leaving his blankets behind, the one cold that he could only feel on his fingers cause he forgot his gloves. He wasn’t used to the cruel cold of north winter, the unforgiving snow storms and hard blizzards. It was too hard to bear for him and made him long for his home.

“Let’s sing ‘Holy night’ now boys! Come on, don’t be shy!” Arthur turned his head in the direction of the soldier shouting. They had just finished singing ‘Joy to the world’, more than a couple of notes out of tune and missing various paragraphs.

“Your shite awful singing is about to make me put a bullet on my head!” Came an answer received from the opposite side trench, a voice strongly accented which struggled in pronouncing the phrase but kept it clear to be understood “You came to slaughter us and our brothers, not our ears, englishmen!”

“Show your face so I can spare you from the pain then!” A general laughter extended across the trench and even after the lieutenant told them, sluggishly at best, to keep quiet, not even him stopped grinning “Alright then, boys. Holy night it’s decided!  _ O holy night! _ ” He started alone and little by little the others followed once again. Their singing was awfully out of tune as they sang louder so the Germans on the other side would hear them. From the other side some mock howling raised along their line. “ _ O! hear the angels' voices! _ ” Arthur listened as some Germans shouted back mockery referring to some ‘angelic’ voices they had and he bit his lip countaing a laugh.

It was the night of the 24 of December 1914, a night he had expected to spend at his home, with his brothers and Francis around the table, most likely fighting each other like they were kids. War was supposed to end way back from December, with at least enough time so they could get home to celebrate, yet they were still in the trench cold and tired, waiting for the whistling of bullets to come any time now. But, no one was shooting. It had been silent all morning until now, when the Germans started singing out of tune carols on their own trench only for them to follow with their own horrid caroling.

“Well these guys are really lively lately, aren’t they?” He tore his gaze from the others to look at the guy currently speaking to him, an old acquaintance - _ He wouldn’t dare say friend _ \- of his who had arrived later after him, stupid frog-face Francis Bonnefoy "You could almost forget how screwed we are from hearing them" their trench had been recently repaired and most of the boys now sitting on it were young recluits.

The fight had been coursing slowly but constantly, with the habitual exchanging of fire and death for both sides, nonetheless last week they had lost to many men, more than what they were used to, one of the lost ones being his older brother, Allistor. 

The sergeant had given the order to advance into the no man's land to push the enemy back after a rather large mobilization on their part, Arthur had been facing the muzzle of an enemy's machine gun when Allistor pushed him off the way and rushed along closer to the enemy trench, after that, everything was unclear for Arthur as he was dragged back to their trench. No one had seen Allistor since then, so they assumed he was dead. Arthur was embarrassed for having seed tears for him so freely.

"Sure enough, they're just kids"

"They just keep sending them younger and younger every time, don't they?" Arthur didn’t know if that was true or not, he was only 20 himself, Francis was only older by three years and they hadn’t been sitting on the trench for more than a year. It was the perception most likely, considering how old both looked dressed on their uniforms and carrying rifles on their shoulders.

The recruitment form had come into his house not so long ago, he didn’t remember what he had been doing back then, but he remembered the short struggle he had with himself to sign himself in. He knew war wasn't an easy matter, he knew the risk and still was naive enough to believe his luck would spare him from any suffering while he was on the front. And while he was physically uninjured, his mental state had been damaged in some degree.

“Anyway, have you heard? Apparently the pop called quits on the war during christmas time. He even came up with a romantic line so the higher ups would listen, of course they didn’t budge. That might surely hurt the state of the war” Arthur said nonchalantly to Francis

Francis noded. “I heard, they were whispering around the trench, I got a little excited.” His eyes reflected sadness and disappointment, Francis was that kind of man “Alas, I had a compromise with a beautiful  _ mademoiselle _ before coming here, damn my luck” Arthur rolled his eyes as Francis sighed dramatically “What about you  _ mon cher _ ? Did you finally find someone to wait for you at home? Or are you still waiting for big brother?”

He frowned, taking distance from the french “Bugger off! I was never interested in the first place” That was a lie. Francis laughed.

Arthur fixed his angry glare on the wall in front of him, the moldy wood and dirt that was covered with snow in the upper part was covered in holes from missed bullets aimed at his head. A little chill ran down his spine at the thought, had he been slower at dodging, he’d be dead by now. 

The power they held in battle wasn’t what he expected at first, somehow, he had imagined another kind of scenario, one where he wasn’t as worried as he was about dying, the one he had read about in a book a long time ago. The inexorable blaze of glory that fight brought to men, the courage born from seeing another mate fall dead and the powerful wink of bravery that sacrifice offered; all of those he expected, but not the terrible homesickness and grief that he felt now. It was wrong to feel that way, he couldn’t help it though. His life was on the line and seeing the ones closer to him in the same state filled him with fear that transformed into panic fast enough. This always pushed him to cowardice in which he would no longer dodge but keep down firing blind shots from behind the trench wall. Allistor had always been right in calling him a coward.

He sighed and unclutched his hand from the riffle, giving his fingers a rest from the cold metal and the uncomfortable position. The sun had been down for a few hours and only God knew for how much longer it would stay that way. The caroling of the soldiers kept going and it seemed it was now synchronized with the one from the enemy. They sang in their own accord and in german, but always following the song in ritm and melody, clearly making a better effort at singing in tune than his companions. They still failed though.

The image planting on his head was weird, trenches full of bloody grown men singing christmas carols while still gwanin at each other's throats, seemingly forgetting for a second that they were singing with the ones who killed their friends and families. The image was weird and it may have driven Arthur to laughter, if he didn’t feel something pulling a string on his subconscious.

“Do you know the hour?” he asked no one in specific, kind of forgetting that he had a clock in his breast pocket. He acted like he hadn’t asked so the matter wasn’t brought up

“Past twelve O’clock. It 's Christmas!” Responded Francis " _ He!Joyeux Noël _ , Arthur!" Said throwing himself over Arthur and pressing his face against his cheek. This earned disapproving grunts and whistling from the other soldiers. Arthur responded to the over-affectionate french with a hit on the face and a series of curses "Damn you have no sense of humor, you black sheep"

"I’ll shoot you dead, shut up" Arthur turned his flushed face "Merry christmas anyway, fucking git" He grinned and made an obscene gesture with his hand.

"Merry christmas englishmen! Merry christmas, Kirkland Arthur!" .

The good humor was broken then, by the shout of the Germans on the other trench. Arthur got up and he plastered his face onto the wood, rifle in position pointing over the snowy ground. Arthur looked ahead, his eyes discerning the familiar trench across the damaged grounds of no man’s land. The trench was illuminated by candles around the edge of it, lighting it up from the inside and the outside, but he saw no enemies peeking through it.

The thumping of his heart reached his ears as he expected the first shot to resound in the quiet, but it never came, instead, he heard more greetings coming his way. “Arthur Kirkland, merry christmas! Happy new year too!  _ Fröhliche Weihnachten _ , Kirkland '' He didn’t respond or shoot, instead kept watching ahead as his companions started shouting back greetings of their own, ignoring the disbelief in Arthur.

It carried for some time, until he could no longer bear the tension on his limbs and jumped back down with Francis, clenching his teeth trying to find a coherent reason of why those germans knew his name. It wasn’t at random, it was clear, if they were only shouting greetings to nobody they would be saying more names, but they repeated his over and over.

Arthur didn’t sit and kept glancing up at the border of the trench with intrigue. Neither him or Francis said nothing to the other soldiers when they asked, like hell they knew why they were calling Arthur.

“ _ Dein Bruder sagt frohe Weihnachten!  _ Arthur Kirkland '' 

Francis perked up quickly, watching the trench wall desperately. With a broken poor pronunciation, he shouted back at the germans “ _ Sein Bruder _ ?! Allistor Kirkland?!” Arthur looked at him questioning, he didn’t knew german but the mention of his dead brothers name called his attention

“The hell are you saying, stupid?!” He spat the words with venom, a lump formed on his throat unabling him from saying anything more.

“Shut up.  _ Sein Bruder _ ?! Allistor Kirkland!” Francis brushed him off, patiently waiting for an answer and speaking a little louder than before “Can you speak english?!  _ Wir sprechen nur Englisch _ !” Arthur looked at him oddly, not really knowing if he felt betrayal or fear. Whatever they were speaking about, it had something to do with his brother. God damned his ignorance and Francis accent.

The trenches became too silent for sometime and Arthur felt more and more uncomfortable. Their comrades spoke on his back and he heard them, the lieutenant had fallen aeslepp and did nothing to help the situation “Stop will you, Francis” Arthur looked at him, pleading “They’re just mocking you stupid” He couldn’t help the wavering of his voice, the disrespect of the memory of his brother was getting to him.

The soldiers looked at him intrigued, they were guessing whatever was crossing his mind at the moment. Arthur felt flushed and tried to dismiss the attention from him. Francis looked equally hurt, Allistor was a friend too, his death pained him. The small sparkle of hope that the german had given him faded as the silence was maintained. No amount of pain could be worse than being given something he wished for only to be taken from him as fast as he could grasp it. Playing with a memory was cruel.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by the manly voice of another german, one who spoke english perfectly “ _ Ja _ ! Your brother, Arthur Kirkland. He said merry Christmas!”

“My brother is dead! Fuck off bastards!” He tried to sound menacing, he’d put a lot of effort in not having his voice break and it came out as a plain shout not a warning cry. 

“Your brother is alive! He’s made prisoner and asked us to wish you a merry christmas. He can’t hear you though!”

“Of course he bloody can’t, he’s dead!” he snapped. The part of his brain who wanted to believe this man overtooking his reason, so he asked for an imposible “If he’s alive, prove it! But you fucking can’t, can’t you?”

There was silence once again, Arthur smirked triumphantly. His eyes stinged at the prick of tears that dared to form slowly. His victory was empty, as empty as this war started to feel, he wanted to go back home.

“If you don’t shoot, we don’t shoot! And you can see your brother!”

Angered, Francis pulled himself up and took a look over the trench, he flipped off in the direction of the germans and yelled “Sure he might see him back in hell,  _ tête de bite! _ ” He proceeded to lift his rifle and waste a couple of bullets shooting to nowhere “ _ Manger de la merde! _ ”

The Germans didn’t respond to his outburst, instead, Francis saw in awe as a white cloth was lifted in the air. “We mean it! Come out! We won’t shoot today, it’s christmas” Francis jumped down, restesly looking around at the other soldiers, they were expectant. All mudied faces confused as to what would happen next, wondering if what the german said was to be trusted or not.

“They lifted a white flag? Are they being serious?”

“They won’t shoot, he said?! As if. Goddamn liars are trying to lure us out. Don’t even think about taking a look outside”

“You think we should check. Maybe he was saying the truth”

“Like hell! You’ll see, the moment you trust them they will shoot you in the face”

Arthur remained plastered on his place, listening to the various whispers of his comrades, their different opinions. The lieutenant was still sleeping, so they talked among themselves, discussing the matter and considering what was said. Were the Germans really willing to have them walk into their land, only if they kept their guns silent? Arthur turned to Francis, question raising within him as the profuouse need of confirming his brother's state dueled with his sense of danger. 

Francis saw him in disapproval “Are you stupid, he’s fucking lying, stupid eyebrows. Put your arse up there and they fill you with plome!” He pointed out, grabbing Arthur by the arm to stop him from moving anywhere. Arthur snarled at him and shook his hand off. Over their bickering they heard as the germans started singing

“ _ Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht _ _! _ ” Their comrades' faces filled with concern kept stealing glances at him, waiting to see if he may dare step on the line of fire. Their curiosity, as thick as the male voices singing, filled Arthur with the courage that he craved to have by himself. His eyes looked up to the top of the trench and he imagined the field, no more than 30 yards separating them from the Germans, which meant that his brother was in the same distance. 

“ _ Shepherds quake at the sight! Glories stream from heaven afar _ ” Was heard from somewhere in their trench, the soldiers picking up the song and singing along the germans. They wanted to forget the matter, ignoring Arthur's intense gaze to the top of the trench, for some reason sure that he wouldn't do anything rad. Arthur got transfixed in the singing and he reflected on it. By the time the song ended, he shough to have found the bravery he so longed to put in practice and he climbed up discarting his rifle on the ground of the trench.

“Arthur!” Cried Francis as he tried to grab whatever he could to pull him back down, but to not avail, he only grazed the sole of his boot as he had already crawled out of the hole. Arthur heard more yelling from his comrades who in fear, forced him to realize he was helpless in front of at least a hundred machine guns.

In front of him, the hurt no man’s land extended as long as she was, silent and covered in snow and almost invisible empty bullet shells. Arthur saw across it, directly into the germans trench, from his perspective, he could see the opposite wall made of mud and a few moving objects, the german soldiers who upon hearing the paniqued shouting tried to get a look at their side. 

Arthur felt exposed in the cold of the field, no longer surrounded by the little heat his mates produced in the trench. He took a shaky step forward, raising his hands in the air and standing upright. He noted first, a few heads poking from behind the trench, curiously jumping up to see for themselves how he walked in their direction, hands in the air and apparently unarmed. They never stayed up for too long, wary of his movements and expectant as to whether he was planning something or he had really come with friendly intentions.

“I'm Arthur Kirkland… please… if, if my brother” his words caught in his throat, this felt like a mistake all of a sudden and there was no trace of the bravery that had grown in him when he left his trench. Maybe he had really come out to meet his brother back in hell.

A man’s head peeped out from the trench and remained there, his eyes scrutinizing him up and down looking for signs of mischief. Blue severe eyes looking in his even from the distance. Arthur stood still as the man climbed out of his trench making signals to his companions and Arthur to relax, but he didn’t, he kept alert as he completely came out. The guy looked well built and not so much taller than Arthur, his face was serious and handsome just like Arthur had seen most Germans be.

He made a signal and told him “Get closer, it’s fine” He walked, spellbound to some kind of confidence that this man had given him. He recognized his voice as the man who had told him his brother was a prisoner. He was anxious, but no longer afraid of being shot. The other walked forward too, confronting him before he arrived at the trench “You’re Kirkland then? I can see the similarities. Follow me, i’ll tell them to bring your brother” The soft change in his tone was well appreciated by Arthur, he put his hands down and followed.

“How come, my brother is a prisoner? We thought he was dead” He spoke frankly catching up to the german now walking by his side.

The german didn’t look at him, instead making some signals to his men in the trench “He almost was, we found him wounded and dragged him in. He put up a lot of fighting, our general wanted to question him in regards to your strategies. He got nothing in the end, even with torture” Arthur’s face contorted, he’d forgot for a second this was the enemy “I’m sorry. It’s not as bad as you think, just a couple of bruises. Your brother is tough”

Arthur knew, he’d always known. Allistor was a force to be reckoned with. To put resistance even if he was dying was the least he could expect from him. "He's just like a bloody mule" Arthur muttered looking ahead, he saw the movement inside the trench. Taking in the details of the structure, it seemed a lot weaker than their own. It wasn't sustained by nothing more than a few bags full of sand on the rear and others in the front, to protect the soldiers from the bullets. Inside he couldn't see much, just that the wall was solely dirt. 

The simplicity of the trench made him turn his attention to the little decoration work that had been put on it. The wall had a few carved holes inside of which candles were lit illuminating the trench effectively. There were also candles in the borders of the trench, as well as some rough built small christmas trees. Behind the trench, some trees from the forest were decorated too, with candles lit around them and lamps dangling from the branches.

"Is this all your hand work?" Asked Arthur taking in the view before him. The gruesome landscape that he always saw from behind his trench was transformed into a mesmerizing picture "It's beautiful"

" _ Danke _ . The guys insisted we celebrated, war or not. I guess they just want to feel home" A sad smile tugged the corner of the german’s mouth and his eyes filled with sorrowful longing. Arthur found himself staring at this with sympathy, his own eyes reflecting the grief in the others face. Their longing for home made them more equal then he hadn’t thought before. “I suppose you english people don’t share their antics? You’re still at the ready back there, right” He said, casting a glance behind them. Some curious faces perking up from under the trench quickly hid back the moment they were noticed. 

Arthur didn’t bother turning to the trench “They do, we hadn’t got permission it’s all. We were all waiting for the high ranks to fall asleep so we could drink something, but then, there were y'all singing as if we hadn’t been killing each other yesterday. FIght after fighting everyday, anyone would go mad and want some good rest from it!” He said regretting his words after having let them out, he spoke his mind without regard to a stranger and to top it, an enemy.

“I can agree'' The other stated reliant as they stopped in front of the trench. It was constructed as a basic tunel on the ground, one wall was left as carved earth and the other had a wooden cover, probably made with trees from the forest behind it. Some oil lamps hung around every five meters or so, all of them were lit up. The floor remained of mud and showed the marks of booted steps taken over and over again onto it. More sand bags were piled up inside, most of them used at the moment as makeshift tables where glasses and bottles of beer were supported. The soldiers sat around them and exchanged greetings, laughing around as they made toasts and played card games. A powerful smell of cigarettes and tobacco filled the air.

Arthur couldn’t help a treacherous smile from creeping in his face, it had been a long time since he had been around a place with such good humor. The last, had been the training base, a night before leaving for the fronts, they were allowed to drink and play games to their heart's content. He drank himself silly that night, and was roughly woken up in the morning by an angry Allistor. It amused him to remember that night, at least at the moment, before he had only thought about it once, after Allistor had been redeemed dead and he had mourned him in the trench. Now, that seemed to fade away.

“British guy, drink with us! Here, come on drink!  _ Prost! Er ist gekommen! _ ” Arthur received a cup filled with beer from another man who he had not noticed came out of the trench, in fact, he had been too occupied thinking to notice the small bunch of germans that had left the trench to receive them “Relax, your brother is on his way. For now let’s just drink. Ludwig, bring us more beer!” He said pointing at the man who led Arthur back to the trench, Ludwig it seemed was his name, sighed and spoke to another man who ran back into the trench.

By the time Arthur was getting his cup refilled for the second time (he finished his first quite quickly) the sound of struggling and shouts tore his attention from the strange talk that Ludwig was sustaining with the man who invited him the drink, Ludwig’s older brother, Gilbert.

“Let the fuck go! Fucking bastards!” Arthur felt his chest ache as the oppressive feeling of anticipation filled him. It was Allistor’s voice who shouted in the distance. He looked inside the trench, trying to discern the redhead in between the excited Germans with no results whatsoever. Arthur walked closer, feeling breathless and desperate to see for himself that his brother was still alive, waiting in the line beside the Germans as his brother finally appeared in the distance, struggling against two men who pulled him to get closer to where they stood.

A strange laugh bubbled from his chest at the sight and he smiled widely to his own surprise “Allistor!” He yelled, ashamed of the feeling of cold tears dropping from his eyes. He was looked upon by his brother, who stopped struggling and looked at him with the same confusion and warm that had possessed Arthur. The Germans allowed him to climb for himself, having him run straight to his brother.

They hugged in a strange vision that anyone who knew them would die to see. Uncaring of the stares, Allistor pressed Arthur against his chest in a protective stance, like he did when he was an infant, holding him dearly and putting his hand on his hair, caressing him. Arthur forgot about pride and held his brother tight against him allowing him to hold him and fighting back whimpers from the foreign feelings of affection shown to him.

“Shit. You stink” said Allistor, turning his nose away from Arthur’s hair.

Arthur chukled, tightening his hold on his brother and feeling the warmth of his live body “Speak for yourself, twat” Responded as he pushed himself away to finally look at his brother with clarity. As to make sure he wouldn’t fade away, he kept his hands over his arms. Allistor had seen better days for sure, but his actual state couldn’t compare to the ones Arthur had seen him even before war, when he was younger and wilder, irresponsible and rutting for violence. Just a few bruises this time, a parted lip and swollen eye. “You look like shit” He might not, but Arthur wanted to have the first laugh.

Allistor took a handful of his ear and pulled it, getting a yelp from Arthur in return as he gave a grin. Both felt the tears on their eyes as the situation landed bringing them relief and joy immeasurable. For the first time in a long time, they could breathe easy.

The brother bond was all they knew as family, at least in Arthur’s case, who had grown up with only some memories from his parents, pictures and stories told by his older brothers. His parents were dead and buried when he was age five, and the ones to take him under care were his brothers, who by that time had reached the majority age. They were by themselves, relying only on each other's back for support, orphaned but never alone. 

Even if they couldn’t admit it, they needed one another to feel full and at home, Arthur couldn’t conceive the idea of going back home alone, explain to Dylan and Conner how they’d be taking a plate from the table, one sock from the fireplace in christmas. He just couldn’t. Thank god he didn’t have to, his brother was alive, they were still complete and a family and they could be at peace.

A spark of something, like panic, choked the realief out of him as fear smeared over his peaceful mind. There was no peace, the war still went on, and when morning came and the high ranks came back he’d be once again forced apart from his brother, to possibly never seeing him again. Back to the trench and forced to look ahead into the place where Allistor was being tortured again.

He was scared, and darted his eyes around himself, looking for a familiar handsome face. When he located him, in between a crowd that was now conformed of both germans and soldiers from his trench, he pushed his way through to him, Allistor following behind, startled at Arthur's sudden fearful expression. 

"Ludwig!" He called, feeling his face heat at the familiarity but he never catched a surname. 

The blonde turned to him, a cup of beer in his hand and now immersed in a talk with Arthur's lieutenant. He excused himself to speak with Arthur, his alarmed facade making him curious, everything seemed to be in peace at the moment, so he wasn’t anxious "Yes, Kirkland?" Behind Arthur, Allistor's menacing stare seized the german beating his capacity of pronouncing his name.

"What's to be off my brother? Where will you send him?" He asked, the alarm on his voice kept at bay by little. He held a small hope, that maybe after today he could still find his brother, nevermind the time or the distance as long as he was still alive.

Allistor roughly pulled Arthur towards himself, standing straight and looking the german in the eye as he said “No kraut bastard is taking me to nowhere. I’ll bite someone’s fingers off If I have to!” He contemplated the german frown slightly, maintaining his position with an arm still over Arthur, always in the ready for whatever may come. But nothing came in the end, the german broke his frown and looked at the two brothers with something Allistor couldn’t quite place, amusement? empathy? Only the devil knew.

Searching his jacket, Ludwig produced a box of cigarettes, taking one out for himself and offering the brothers “You don’t have to worry. Want a light? We’re freeing the prisoners, I was discussing that with your lieutenant. Is a common agreement from both. We’re also arranging a funeral service if you’d like to know” He received a lighter from Arthur, who had already lit his cigarette and Allistor’s. Ludwig turned the lighter around, finding a deteriorated stamp of the british flag on the side, on top of it the initials for “Arthur Kirkland” were written with a graphite pencil. “So, you’re free to go” He stated with a raised brow, passing the lighter back to Arthur.

“I’d leave you like or not” Finished Allistor with a fierce look as he inhaled, feeling the taste of the smoke. It was german tobacco, not much of his liking in this state, but better than nothing.

Arthur ignored his brother’s disdain “Thank you” he said, avoiding to look even from the corner of his eye at the angered sight of Allistor, focusing instead on the smile curving Ludwig’s lips, small but natural, it softened the germans severe face.

Arthur wouldn’t say he was usually interested in other people's features, he was able to discern beauty when he saw it of course, he always thought Francis was beautiful. His exterior was mesmerizing to look at, never mind his personality. Even with that, he never stopped to watch intently at his friend (He needed to remind himself he was just a friend) as Francis was just like another brother in some degree, it felt gross to think of him another way. In his puberty years he had, in fact, had some thought about him, but it was now forgotten and buried deep inside. Some thoughts and feelings were only meant for women and it was wrong to have them about men, or so his brothers said. Arthur didn’t really listen.

But Ludwig was… something. Arthur couldn’t place him, he was broad and handsome, clearly muscled under his clothes. But he couldn’t leave him only in the line of another attractive man. He didn’t know what he was either.

Under the excuse of drinking and chatting he remained close to Ludwig, celebrating christmas as he worked his mind over the bugging though of Ludwig. Nonetheless the more he thought the more he was confused, and also, the more he learned about Ludwig also left him confused.

He learnt that Ludwig was in the rank of Lieutenant, a well trained soldier who escalated the ranks until he got this promotion. He was clever and level headed, well known and appreciated around the army. He came from a similar family like the one he had, dead parents with only his siblings to take care of him. The difference was, Ludwig never knew his parents, or if he knew them he had no memory, he was orphaned and taken in by a brother older than Gilbert. The same brother was dead now as well as most of the rest he supposed and so the only family he had left was Gilbert.

The feelings of attachment he felt as Ludwig told him more about him, Arthur wished to loathe them, but he couldn’t, they kept growing and resisted to subside over the constant reminder that this was just temporary. They’d still have to go back into the fight after christmas was over, no excuses.

War had to be played that way, cold and detached, ignorant or oblivious to the value of other people’s life. To make war he didn’t need to know what wrongs the other had done, what good they strived for. He just needed the rifle and the enemy, the position of knowledge that he was part of the good guys and was likely to win. He never needed names, and surely not histories about the men he fought against. That’s why speaking to Ludwig felt like a mistake he would regret, how was he supposed to shoot to kill someone who just managed to make him laugh? Who he was actually just beginning to see?

Having a friendly encounter would be useless and even harmful if he was to just sit along it, he’d rather just clam up and go back to the trench as it was the logical option. He couldn’t do it though, even if it seemed like the right thing to do, he found himself going along under the hard glares of Allistor. He acted as cooled stone, afraid that displaying more emotions around could give away the certain interest he had in this man. It wasn’t effective though, he was an open book right now.

His brother wanted that over, but he was powerless under the strong personality of Arthur, no questioning he raised him, Arthur was too stubborn. Eventually, it happens that it came to the end like he wanted, but only after he confirmed his prediction: he’d have to drag Arthur back home with him, he had just become useless for the army.

After a game of soccer, played roughly over the unstable no man’s land with a recently emptied can of meat rations, finally the captain showed around the english trench to order the soldiers go back in positions. Infuriated at the display of friendship between his men and the Germans, he couldn’t care less about the angry glances he was cast.

They went back slowly, keeping to themselves the solemn feelings towards the german acquaintances they'd made.

Arthur had to leave too, finally getting a conclusion on his mind about Ludwig. This man was just special. The kind of special he wanted to have for an ally. He turned his back to his trench, focusing on Ludwig as he extended a hand “This is farewell then. I don’t think we’ll see each other again” Ludwig took his hand, squeezing in a strong salute.

“I guess so. It was my pleasure, Arthur Kirkland” They kept their hands united, still on a salute that Arthur was reluctant to let go off.

They went their separate way then, walking away as Arthur felt more and more cold on the hand that had just grabbed Ludwig’s. He couldn’t shake the feeling around that hand, the same that’d be gripping the rifle tomorrow morning, the one he’d use to aim forward.

He reached inside his pocket, taking out his lighter, a cheap thing he had received from another guy in exchange for some chocolate. He had no more belongings with him. “Ludwig!” He voiced turning back, Ludwig turning back to him “Catch!” He tossed the lighter. It was cheap but he had nothing else, maybe it could at least help Ludwig light another cigarette when he wanted to.

From his distance he heard a small chuckle from Ludwig. He saw him check around his pocket, flooding around until he found whatever he was looking for. Ludwig prevented him and tossed something in his direction, Arthur catched it, finding a new lighter, better taken care off than the one he had, really expensive.

His face burned as he gasped, turning to see Ludwig shaking his arm in goodbye as he turned back to his trench. Arthur smiled.

Climbing down back into the trench felt like waking up from a dream, a very cozy dream of which he wished to not wake up from. He found the same coldness that he had been feeling the entire time since he arrived, this time though, he had a new lighter to push it away with.

\----

The night of the 25 of December 1914 came to an end, and with it, the peace they had built up ended too and the war started once again for them all with two shots fired in the air from the captains.

The coldness of the rifle, now hurting more than it had done before.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my favorite writting proyect <3


End file.
